


reunite

by katierosefun



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Lives, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Minor Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Pre-Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: [because the season seven trailer came out]“Alright, Rex,” Anakin said loudly, striding towards the communicator. “What’s so important that you brought us all the way out he—”Anakin heard Obi-Wan’s sharp intake of breath first.And then he saw her.She had grown taller. Her arm and legs were more toned. Her lekks were longer. But it was still her—it was still—She turned around, and Anakin felt as though the floor had vanished from under him.Her face was unreadable—since when? Anakin wondered, dazed—but she crossed her arms over her chest in the same, subtly defiant manner she had ever since she was…by his side. (She’d cross her arms, narrow her eyes. So what? her expression would always say. Who’s gonna make me?)For what felt like light years to Anakin, she didn’t speak. Her eyes widened just a little bit, but only by a fraction of an inch—if Anakin had blinked, he would have missed it.Then, “Hello, Master. It’s been a while.”





	reunite

“I’m worried about him.”

“I am, too—”

“Obi-Wan—he hasn’t been…himself.”

“Wartime burdens us all.”

“Not like _this_.”

Silence.

“Just…can you make sure he’ll be…alright?”

A sigh. “I always do, Padme. Trust me, I always do.”

Anakin turned off the com before he could hear anything more. He felt an all-too familiar flash of exasperation mingling with annoyance. He wasn’t a _child_. Padme and Obi-Wan were only overreacting again. Anakin Skywalker was fine. Everything was fine. True, the war efforts seemed to be pushing harder than ever, but that only gave Anakin reason to push back harder, too. He was doing his duty. That was all.

“Overreacting,” Anakin grumbled just as the doors slid open.

“Who’s overreacting?” Obi-Wan asked as Padme and he walked into the corridor. Both Obi-Wan and Padme smiled pleasantly, but Anakin could see the concern gleaming in their eyes. Concern, Anakin quickly came to realize, was a fragile look on both Padme and Obi-Wan. Actually, _everything_ seemed to feel fragile around them these days.

Anakin hadn’t realized he was scowling until Padme asked, “Is something wrong? You look upset.”

 _Well, wouldn’t you? If you heard two people talking about you behind your back, wouldn’t you get upset?_ Anakin wanted to shoot back. Instead, he only shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said, ignoring the skeptical look Obi-Wan shot him. “Only going through some plans. Have to give the boys a talk.”

“Right.” Padme stepped back, bowing her head first to Obi-Wan and then to Anakin—only, Anakin felt something soften in his chest at the small, secret smile she shot him before taking another step back. At least _some_ things didn’t change. “Then here is where I’ll leave you two. Good luck, Master Jedi.”

“Senator,” Obi-Wan and Anakin both bowed their heads before they all departed.

“So…plans?” Obi-Wan asked as the two made their way outside.

“Just some late-night ideas.”

“You were up again?” Obi-Wan asked. _There_ —Obi-Wan’s pleasant mask had just cracked. Even Anakin’s former master couldn’t act casual whenever late nights were involved. “We’ve only been back at Coruscant for a few days—I thought you would rest at least on the last night here.”

“I couldn’t,” Anakin said shortly. “Not with the mission brief.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started to warn, but Anakin shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said, lifting a hand. “A few rough nights won’t kill me.”

“It’s been more than a few nights,” Obi-Wan murmured. “And you know that as well as I do.”

“Look,” Anakin said, not bothering to hide the impatience from his voice. “I feel fine. I haven’t screwed anything up. I’ve been productive.” He spread out his hands, turning to his former master. “There’s nothing to get worried about. Now can we focus on more important things?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Anakin only gave him a pointed look. Obi-Wan sighed, clasping his hands together behind his back. “We _will_ talk about this, Anakin,” he said as the two resumed their walk.

“Yeah, yeah,” Anakin muttered, hurrying his step.

\--

So he hadn’t been sleeping. Anakin dreaded closing his eyes, knowing full well what _things_ were waiting for him. He had never been able to sleep well, even back when he was on Tatooine—he remembered getting disturbing dreams even back then, and while they stopped a little while when he was training, well. Bad dreams always had a way of coming back.

Anakin’s stomach clenched. Jedi didn’t just get _bad dreams_. He knew that too well. Jedi got warnings. Visions. Cautionary signs.

And if his dreams were signs…

A block of ice settled in Anakin’s gut.

“Anakin?”

“What?” Anakin snapped, turning sharply to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed. “Rex needs us.”

“Why?”

“We’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

Anakin lifted his head and blew out a long, aggravated breath. “Fine,” he muttered, turning to the older man. “Let’s get this over with.” If Obi-Wan disproved of Anakin’s restlessness, he—for once—didn’t show it. Obi-Wan only shifted to the side and let Anakin walk in front of him.

The rest of the ship was busy, already thrumming with the frenzy and energy of pre-operation preparations. Judging by the number of soldiers rushing around, Anakin already had a vague idea of the kind of thing Rex was probably looking to him for—maybe something wasn’t working, or maybe a piece of equipment was missing. (Which Anakin hoped was _not_ the fracking case, because he doubted he had the patience for something like that today.)

Anakin made Rex out from the other end of the ship, but only partly. He could see Rex’s helmet tucked under his arm as always—could make out his armor—but the rest of him, including his face. But Rex was standing in front of a holo-communicator, a hologram already activated. Anakin couldn’t tell who Rex was talking to, but whoever it was, he or she must have been important by the stiffness in his captain’s shoulders.

Maybe an admiral…maybe a commander asking for extra back-up? Or maybe the Order was back with some warning or request. But right now, Anakin couldn’t quite tell, what with too many troopers wandering around for Anakin to make a clear idea of who the communicant was.

“Alright, Rex,” Anakin said loudly, striding towards the communicator. “What’s so important that you brought us all the way out he—”

Anakin heard Obi-Wan’s sharp intake of breath first.

And then he saw _her_.

She had grown taller. Her arm and legs were more toned. Her lekks were longer. But it was still _her_ —it was still—

She turned around, and Anakin felt as though the floor had vanished from under him.

Her face was unreadable— _since when?_ Anakin wondered, dazed—but she crossed her arms over her chest in the same, subtly defiant manner she had ever since she was…by his side. (She’d cross her arms, narrow her eyes. _So what?_ her expression would always say. _Who’s gonna make me?_ )

For what felt like light years to Anakin, she didn’t speak. Her eyes widened just a little bit, but only by a fraction of an inch—if Anakin had blinked, he would have missed it.

Then, “Hello, Master. It’s been a while.” 

Even her _voice_ was different—deeper. Stronger. No childish lilt left, no teasing or snarky notes hiding beneath her words. Her voice rang around Anakin’s ears.

Rex was the first to speak. “Comm—” He stopped himself, and for a second, Anakin saw confusion flit across Rex’s face. Of course—the captain hadn’t managed to shake off her former title. Clearing his throat, Rex continued, “Tano carries urgent news from Mandalore. She thought we should be informed.”

Every word from Rex sounded restrained, clipped, controlled. _Careful_. He stared straight through the hologram—through _her_ —through Anakin and at some distant point on the horizon. But after so many battles together, Rex couldn’t fool Anakin. He sensed the turmoil stirring in Rex just as real and as palpable as Anakin’s own.

But how Rex could just _stand there_ , with his eyes unblinking and his stance straight was something beyond Anakin. Not while Anakin himself felt something trembling, raging, _storming_ from within. And how could _she_ just stand there, too? How could _she_ —with her own cool expression and voice—just _stand there_ , like nothing had happened? Like the last time Anakin had seen her wasn’t on those Temple steps?

_How could she act like that?_

“Mandalore?” Obi-Wan asked at last. “But—”

The sound of his former master’s voice forced Anakin awake.

“ _Wait_.” Anakin didn’t mean to sound so forceful—even he could hear the growl in his voice—but he couldn’t help himself. He _had_ to say something. He felt like this moment ( _these moments_ ) were as fragile and as delicate as mist. If he didn’t say something now, then he wouldn’t ever be able to speak again. He couldn’t let his words slip through his fingers.

Not like last time.

“ _Wait_ ,” Anakin repeated, nearing the communicator. Every single one of his sense’s sharpened, enhanced, _focused_ —he felt Obi-Wan reach out, maybe to grasp Anakin’s wrist, but his hand fell limply like an empty promise. He saw the tiny muscles in Rex’s jaw jump and twitch, trying to contain whatever words were fighting to escape. But most of all, he saw _Ahsoka_ —even with her edges blurred through the hologram, even with her eyes nothing more than little particles of light and digital screening.

But those were still her eyes.

“Clear the area.”

There was a pause.

Then, “Sir, we—”

“I _said_ ,” Anakin raised his voice, flicking his eyes at Rex, “ _clear the area._ ”

He waited for Obi-Wan to say something. He waited for Rex to say something. Kriff, he even half-expected _Ahsoka_ to say something, but no one moved. No one seemed to breathe.

Finally, Rex nodded his head once—a quick, mechanical jerk of his head—and he, along with the other few clustered around the hologram retreated until it was only Ahsoka and that female Mandalorian and Anakin.

And after everyone on Anakin’s side had cleared the room, Ahsoka, to both Anakin’s surprise and relief, nodded to her companion, signaling a leave.

Now, just the two of them stood. Light years away, but standing nonetheless.

“You want to tell me where you’ve been the last few months?” Anakin asked at last, crossing his arms.

Ahsoka mirrored his stance, but the expression on her face remained still. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Should I?” She lifted a shoulder. “I’ve been places.”

“Now is not the time to play around,” Anakin gritted out, simultaneously hating and reveling how _angry_ he sounded. Each word _ripped_ out of him, tearing open a stitch or a hidden scar. “You can’t just _call_ like this, all…” He gestured once, his arm moving like a lever. Up, down.

“All?” Ahsoka repeated dryly.

“All _fine_ ,” Anakin fired. “All _normal_.” The words steamrolled out of him, toppling one over the other. “You can’t call and act as if you’ve been away on a mission for a few weeks. You can’t act like _I’ve_ just been away for a few weeks. You can’t act like you never _left_.”

 _There_ : Ahsoka’s smooth brow furrowed.

“You’re mad at me.” Ahsoka said at last.

“Took you long enough.” Anakin muttered, dropping his arms.

“Anakin—” Ahsoka stopped herself. “I…don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not sorry for leaving.”

Anakin tore his eyes away from the hologram. He remembered the pain in her eyes that day—the utter _betrayal,_ the hurt. “I know you’re not,” he managed out.

“But you’re still angry.” Ahsoka hesitated. “You’re…angry that I left _you_. You think _I_ left _you_.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Anakin couldn’t bring his eyes back to Ahsoka. He kept his focus at the base of the hologram, at Ahsoka’s boots. Even through the crackling blue light, Anakin could make out the worn soles and scuff marks. “You left.” _You left your home. Home is where your family should be. We were your family._

“I couldn’t recognize my home anymore,” Ahsoka replied. “Can your home really be your home after it turned you out?”

“But _I didn’t_ turn you out,” Anakin said, jerking his face up to Ahsoka. “I _fought_ for you. _Padme_ fought for you. We were all _fighting_ for you. You can’t just—you could have at least _sent_ us some kind of _sign_. Some kind of…” He threw his hands up in the air. “I didn’t know if you were _safe_ or _hurt_ or _alone_ —”

“But you shouldn’t _have_ to.” For the first time, Ahsoka’s voice sharpened. “I’m not a _child_ anymore. The Order was clear about that. _I_ was clear about that. My choice was just that— _my choice_. _You_ didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Anakin curled his fingers inward. “Why wasn’t I?” he heard himself ask, his voice hollow. Empty. Tired.

He was always tired.

“Anakin.” Ahsoka’s voice was soft. Even the thrum of the hologram seemed to quiet in that one moment. A small shock—a brief buzz from the hologram—and then Ahsoka repeated, slower, “ _Anakin_.” Like she was getting used to his name again. Like she was trying to remember how to get her lips to form those exact letters, string together those exact letters into an exact sound, project that exact sound to match him.

“You don’t know,” Anakin said to the ground. “You don’t know how much I…” The words scratched at Anakin’s throat. Clawed at his throat, fighting to get out after days, weeks, _months_ of being trapped. “I missed you,” he finished, lifting his head.

Though the hologram was blurry enough, Anakin could still see the slight dip of surrender in Ahsoka’s shoulders. “But I _did_ know,” she said. “I knew it every day.”

“Then why didn’t you contact me?” Anakin asked, his fingers digging into his palm. If not for the glove, Anakin knew his nails would have left crescents in his skin.

“You know why.” Ahsoka replied, eyes boring deep into Anakin’s. The hologram had nothing to do with the familiar bright stubbornness in Ahsoka’s gaze.

Anakin swallowed. “You never cared for protocol before.”

“No,” Ahsoka said tiredly, “ _you_ were the one who never cared for protocol.” A sad smile tugged at the corner of Ahsoka’s lips. “ _I_ always had to save the day, remember?”

Anakin wished he could smile back. He wished he cared enough to smile, but his lips remained in its solid, shapeless frown.  

Pain flickered across Ahsoka’s face. Her lips parted, ready to say something, but before she could, someone clad in Mandalorian armor appeared on the hologram and tapped Ahsoka on the shoulder. Ahsoka turned, submitting a whisper from the Mandalorian, and Anakin felt something tighten in his chest again at how Ahsoka’s shoulders stiffened back to command. How many times has Anakin done the same thing when Ahsoka was trying to talk to him? How many times has Ahsoka been the one staring at Anakin’s flickering figure, swallowing down frustrated, throat-scratching words?

“I understand,” Ahsoka nodded at the Mandalorian. “Tell her I’ll be ready soon.”

When the soldier flickered out of the screen, Anakin said, “You have to go.”

Ahsoka drew in her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said, and it sounded like she meant it. Or was this the voice she used with everyone else now? Anakin tried to remember if she had sounded the same way before she left.

Anakin straightened. “I’ll call back Obi-Wan and Rex.”

Ahsoka gave a stiff, terse nod.

Only as Anakin turned to left, Ahsoka called out again, “Anakin.”

He turned—partially, only just so he could make out Ahsoka’s form out of the corner of his eye. And yet, half-turned as he was, Anakin could still see the pained smile his former apprentice gave.

“I missed you, too,” she said, and it might have been the static, but Anakin could have sworn he heard the throat-scratching, buried frustration digging into her voice. “We’ll speak again.” She paused. “For real, next time.”

There: Anakin felt his lips twinge upwards. Just barely, but enough so that Ahsoka saw.

“Yeah,” Anakin replied, turning his head just a little more so he could catch Ahsoka’s eyes. “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while, but after the season seven trailer dropped, I had to write this. I should technically be working on papers right now (#collegelife), but I've never outgrown my love for The Clone Wars. So. Here we are.


End file.
